The Kokopelli Dilemma. The Use, Abuse, and Care of Rock
Art

"The wisdom of the ages is written in the stones
May we see with the eyes of stones"
John Trudell, Santee Sioux

Petroglyphs (carved, pecked or abraded images) and pictographs
(paintings on rock)--collectively referred to as rock art--can
be found from coast to coast. Ranging in ages from many thousands of
years to mere decades, its regional, cultural, and stylistic
variations mirror the rich diversity of the indigenous peoples that
have inhabited this part of the continent.

As there is no national register or other such catalog, an exact
count of the number of known rock art sites in the USA does not
exist. Recently, with the help of rock art researchers in Arizona, I
calculated that there are approximately 2,500 known individual sites
on publicly owned land in that state alone. It must be remembered
that this does not account for sites on private land and the myriad
of unknown sites. Remember too that a "site" is not defined as a
single glyph. A site can vary in size and content from a single
small image to an area including multiple panels, each panel being
made up of hundreds of glyphs. Rock art images also range in size
from tiny elements a few centimeters across to massive examples many
meters in length (Fig. 1).

Fig.1 A
petroglyph panel close to a later homestead site in southeastern
Colorado. The panel shows a group of animals above which is s line
of stick-like anthropomorphic figures. Pinon Canyon Maneuver Site,
Department of the Army, Fort Carson, Colorado.

If Arizona boasts more than 2,500 sites, it is readily apparent
that nationally rock art represents a truly huge cultural resource
in extent and diversity.

Window shopping in almost any location in the Southwest will
reveal the acceptance of rock art as a decorative motif and
therefore a symbol of the area. It could be argued that the
hunchbacked, mischievous looking "flute player" (often erroneously
referred to as "Kokopelli") may have now surpassed the ubiquitous
"howling coyote" motif at the top of the list of the ten most
popular Southwest images (Keith, 1997: McCreedy & Malotki, 1994).

The way in which this design of a stooped, often potbellied
figure has become so popular perfectly illustrates the ease with
which we will adopt images that visually appeal to us, while at the
same time ignoring their spiritual significance to their originating
communities. In fact, as a character, the flute player is not always
the cute, fun loving guy so readily displayed on t-shirts, switch
plates, tote bags, night lights, wind chimes and endless items of
personal jewelry. Among many other activities, he is associated with
the seduction of young girls, and indeed some of the most potent and
powerful versions of this image, when found in their original
contexts on sites, display in full erected state just how powerfully
male this character can be. But like strategically placed Victorian
fig leaves and covered piano legs, you are only likely to find the
emasculated version of him adorning contemporary Southwest
kitsch.

This sort�of familiarity with rock images coincides with
increasing demands on public land for recreational use and an
apparent ignorance of the significance of sacred places. It is
therefore no wonder that we have seen a similar increase in reported
damage to rock art sites through both general wear and tear and -
more alarmingly--deliberate vandalism and theft. Along with
pottery and other artifacts, rock art has joined the lucrative and
often illegal business of collecting and trading ancient artifacts,
turning up as items for garden landscaping and occasionally as
interior decoration for private homes.

Deterioration at rock image sites can be split into two
categories. First there is the natural deterioration from the normal
forces of nature that cause archaeological sites to breakdown. These
include wind, dust, ice and water erosion, seasonal variations in
temperature and sun exposure, plant overgrowth, animal activity, and
so forth (Fig. 2). The origins of the sites themselves can often be
attributed to these actions. Commonly rock shelters and shallow
caves (favored locations for many types of rock art) were formed by
natural erosion and continue to alter under the impact of these
forces.

Fig. 2 Part
of Jeffers Petroglyph Site, southwest Minnesota. Not all sites are
caves or cliffs; this site consists of a gently sloping quartzite
outcrop approximately 900 feet long and 180 feet at its widest
point.

Thousands of petroglyphs are carved into the rock along its
length, many covered by a thick layer of lichen, as seen here. This
makes them difficult to see and may be causing damage to the
glyphs.

A long term environmental monitoring project is planned for this
site in order to better understand the impact of the local
environment on the glyphs -- including the lichen.

Although the ongoing, natural alteration of sites can cause rock
art to decay and be lost, therefore qualifying normal weathering as
a threat to the "object", these natural actions may be seen by some
Native American communities as normal and a necessary part of the
life of a site. With that in mind, can we truly call this
deterioration? Trying to lessen the impact of natural forces of
deterioration is an uphill struggle, and as a species we have not
done well in our attempts to control Mother Nature. We can sometimes
slow down the rate of decay, but attempting to stop it is rarely
successful and can often cause or exacerbate other problems. In
light of what we know about the traditional use of sites and the
concerns of Native Americans, we also have to ask: should we
interfere?

The second category of deterioration is that caused by human
actions, both deliberate and unintentional. It is arguably the most
destructive form of decay, damaging sites very rapidly and
aggressively. The spray paint, scratched graffiti and theft we so
quickly associate with urban living finds its way all too commonly
to rock art sites (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3 This is
an unusual combination of natural and man-made deterioration. Here,
the scratched graffito "ZERO" has been highlighted by the
preferential efflorescence of natural soluble salts in the
scratches. Pictograph Cave State Historic Park, Montana.

With the efforts to control graffiti by legislation limiting the
availability of spray paint, an increase in the use of permanent ink
markers and Liquid Paper� type correction fluids seems to
have occurred at rock image sites. Gunshot damage is a common
feature especially in more rural locations, presumably the result of
using the glyphs for target practice (Fig. 4). This kind of
deliberate and premeditated activity on the part of a few visitors
spoils the sites for all of us and for future generations. It is
worth bearing in mind that these problems are not unique to the USA.
A recent article in Time magazine (Jaroff,
1997) gives an example of similar problems occurring to Bushmen
rock art sites in Africa.

Fig. 4 The round spalls that disfigure these
petroglyphs of hands are gunshot damage. Petroglyph National
Monument, New Mexico.

Unintentional damage to sites is also widespread. Rock art has a
tactile appeal and people are drawn to touch it, perhaps to gain
some kind of physical connection to the ancient past, or maybe
simply out of curiosity--after all, the sense of touch is a primary
method by which we continuously and instinctively explore our
immediate environment. Most people see their visit to a site as an
isolated act. They forget that thousands of people have visited the
site before them and thousands will come after them. If each of
those persons touches the images the result is excessive amounts of
wear and tear. Over time the buildup of natural oils from skin and
the additional residue of sunscreen or maybe the picnic just enjoyed
along the trail, cause the staining and darkening of images, and
their physical erosion.

The spiritual nature of rock art sites has also led to abuse.
Although the religious significance of these places is well known
and accepted, it seems that their sanctity often is not--or at best
it is misunderstood. Petroglyph and pictograph sites have been
freely adopted as places for the ritual practice of various
non-Native American belief systems, often described as New Age
religions. Such activity has involved the use of materials and
practices that either bear little resemblance to any known Native
American ceremonies or the selective adoption of a variety of
indigenous religious customs. These amalgams of religious practices
often involve spiritual elements of indigenous cultures from other
regions of North America and even components from other
countries.

For example, Plains Indian type medicine wheels and miniature
European style dolmens have been found constructed within Southwest
rock art sites. These activities have involved the introduction of
stone and other materials from outside the site and the
rearrangement of existing rocks. Both of these activities may alter
the spiritual condition of the site for the Native Americans, and
anarchaeologically they represent the gross introduction of foreign
materials and the disturbance--if not destruction--of existing
elements. Candle wax has been found dripped over images, and the use
of fires within sites is also widespread. Evidence of the use of
sites by satanic cults has also been recorded.

Legally, any of these practices causing physical alteration of a
site located on public lands can be classed as vandalism, therefore
open to prosecution. However, prosecuting in these cases is
difficult as the culprits have to be all but caught in the act of
altering the site. The very nature of these practices (calling for
the use of natural and secluded places) makes such apprehension
almost impossible. In some extreme situations, surveillance cameras
and other remote detection equipment have been used in an effort to
control unauthorized site access and vandalism.

From a Native American viewpoint, these activities represent yet
another assault on the remaining integrity of their already battered
cultures and religions. A possible analogy might be the appearance
of a group of uninvited "New Agers" in a church, synagogue or temple
where they proceeded to carry out ceremonies and rituals that might
be described as "pagan".

My strangest personal experience with rock art involved the
unauthorized use of a pictograph site in Arizona. While carrying out
a condition assessment of the site, located in the Coconino National
Forest near Sedona (arguably the center of current New Age
activity), I found myself surrounded by a group of approximately a
dozen people intently following the progress of a blindfolded man
who was dressed in a theatrical bright green leprechaun outfit and
speaking in an atrocious fake Irish accent. One of his followers led
him along the length of the site, while he "channeled" some form of
spirit from the images. In the gaps between panels of images, he
seemed to babble or talk in tongues. Miraculously he appeared to
know exactly where each image was located despite the blindfold,
however I must have been at best a benign force on the site, as he
walked past me, apparently totally unaware of my presence or that of
my environmental monitoring equipment. Bringing up the rear of the
troop was another follower self-consciously beating a hand drum, the
head of which was painted with designs popularly associated with
Native American arts and crafts.

Being British and having Irish connections, I found this
performance to be at first unbelievable (I thought my Forest Service
colleagues had set me up) and then insulting. If this upset me,
heaven knows how Native Americans must feel.

I later found out from people in the Sedona area that this person
regularly took groups to the site, charging them large sums of money
for a couple of hours of spiritual experience. Commercial
activities of this type are legal only under a use permit issued by
the Forest Service. Issuing permits helps provide the Service with
some control of the concentration and kind of activities that take
place, and recently provisions have been made for collecting fees
which can be used for conservation and general maintenance of
sites.

Petroglyphs and pictographs have attracted our attention for
centuries. In the USA the earliest published attempt to record rock
art is probably that of Cotton Mather who in 1690 published an
account and illustration of Dighton Rock, Massachusetts, in a tome
entitled "Wonderful Works of God Commemorated". This continued
fascination has led to many techniques aimed at documenting images
that have actually caused extensive damage to rock art. Methods of
recording, such as taking rubbings, plaster casts, latex peels, or
wet paper impressions of petroglyphs, have led to staining, surface
erosion and actual loss of images. In addition, we have found that
the application of certain materials compromises the use of newly
developed dating techniques on these sites.

Highlighting rock art in order to make it easier for visitors to
see and to allow for "better" photographs to be taken, has been a
widespread practice in the past. Outlining petroglyphs and
pictographs with chalk, crayon, marine varnish, charcoal and paint,
throwing water or other liquids on pictographs to enhance their
colors, lighting fires immediately below panels to provide
atmospheric light, have all taken their toll on sites (Fig. 5). If
not being regularly reapplied to aid visitor interpretation, many of
these materials have been left in place after use rather than
cleaned up in the mistaken belief that the rain and other elements
will remove them quickly.

Fig. 5 The dark color that highlights these petroglyphs from the
Jeffers Petroglyph Site, Minnesota, has been caused by the aging of
marine varnish that was applied to the glyphs to make them easier
for visitors to see. This practice was discontinued five years
ago.

In the desert Southwest, chalk not only stays in place, but can
actually mineralize in a very short time to become hard and
virtually impossible to remove safely. Likewise aged paints and
crayons become insoluble, leaving an almost permanent record of the
well intentioned documentation effort. All of these methods are now
considered to be inappropriate techniques for recording rock images,
as is the practice of invasive enhancement of images to make public
viewing easier. Indeed, as with unauthorized site use, under the
terms of much of the legislation that protects these resources on
public land, the use of these methods and materials without
permission of the managing agency can be prosecuted as acts of
vandalism.

These activities, intentional or otherwise, show a total lack of
understanding and respect for the cultures that created the images,
and the significance of sites as spiritual and religious places.
Although Native American belief systems are as diverse as the
individual cultures represented within the indigenous peoples of the
USA, there are some traits common to most.

Perhaps the one of most relevance to rock art sites is the
concept that everything in this world has life within it.

Rocks are not dead, inanimate, spiritless masses of chemical
compounds. They are alive and have power. To begin to understand
this you do not have to study ethnography, anthropology, or follow a
course in comparative religion. Just take the time to sit silently
at a site and watch the never ending activity that goes on there;
the animals and insects living in and around the rock, the wind and
light changing the sound and appearance of the place. Revisiting a
site at different times of the year will reveal how the seasons
radically change the appearance and environment, the life within the
site.

Better yet, if you are fortunate enough to spend time at a site
with a Native American elder, allow your mind to open, and refrain
from asking the kinds of material based questions conservators are
trained to ask, you will have the best chance to start to understand
these places from the point of view of the creators of the sites and
their living descendants. Then it is easier to understand why it is
so important to consider the traditional beliefs associated with a
site when working there.

Legislation exists to protect archaeological sites, areas
recognized as sacred, and the rights of Native Americans to practice
their religion. However, a problem exists in that this legislation
has been written by a culture whose background is primarily
Eurocentric. Yet these laws are being applied to places that
originate from other cultures, cultures whose concepts and
definitions of time, space and location are totally different.

For instance, the problems of appropriate facilitation of access
are difficult and contentious. Who should be allowed to use sites
and in what manner? This is of particular concern to Native
Americans regarding the use of places that they hold as sacred. With
a greater awareness of indigenous people's concerns and needs, the
federal land managing agencies are making efforts to accommodate
them, but the task is not easy.

This is demonstrated by the response to National Park Service
actions to manage access to Devils Tower, Wyoming. The geological
formation known as Devils Tower (the focus of Devils Tower National
Monument) is a sacred place to Native Americans, but more familiar
to most people as the landing place for the Mother Ship in the movie
"Close Encounters of the Third Kind". It is a popular tourist
destination attracting almost 500,000 visitors a year, most between
Memorial Day and Labor Day (National Park Service,
undated), and it is also a popular destination for recreational
climbers.

In 1995 the Monument initiated a Climbing Management Plan, part
of which stated the request "In respect for the reverence many
Native Americans hold for Devils Tower as a sacred site, rock
climbers will be asked to voluntarily refrain from climbing on
Devils Tower during the culturally significant month of June." (National Park Service, 1995). This produced a
storm of protest from the climbing community who felt that their
First Amendment rights had been violated and inevitably law suits
have ensued. This situation illustrates the general need for
tolerance and understanding between the many groups vying for use of
land that is (regardless of any opinions challenging the validity of
the situation) now owned by the federal government who is trying to
manage it for all members of our society.

So, what can we do as conservators to preserve and protect these
sites? Working with rock art is not for all conservators. As with
every object that conservators have the privilege of working with,
each poses its own particular problems and challenges. With rock
art, these demands tend to be large, immobile, exposed, and
sometimes remote. Unlike more traditional artifacts found in
collections, rock art sites cannot be moved indoors for convenient,
comfortable treatment.

It was once common practice to gather rock art for museum
collections, regularly explaining this activity as an attempt to
protect the images from vandalism and theft. However, the fact that
the collection process (often involving the use of dynamite) could
itself be described as vandalism and theft was overlooked, as was
the importance of the images as part of the larger entity
represented by the whole site. Taking chosen rock art images from a
site is like selectively removing the heads of saints from a
Byzantine wall-mosaic and placing them on the walls of a gallery,
leaving the original with visual and spiritual voids that cannot be
truly repaired.

The collection of rock art for museums is no longer accepted as a
normal practice. The only time when it is considered as necessary is
when a site is threatened with destruction due to development, road
building, reservoir construction, or similar activities. Even in
these circumstances we have seen a trend towards saving the sites,
rather than destroying them. A recent case in point is the halting
of the construction of a major hydro-electric dam project in the C�a
Valley of northeastern Portugal, after an international outcry
regarding the pending loss of over a hundred Paleolithic petroglyphs
representing some of the oldest examples of rock art in Europe. The
area has now been turned into an archaeological national park.

Rock art conservation treatments have to be designed to be
applied on-site, often in areas where access to vehicles is either
impossible or restricted, meaning that all equipment and supplies
must be carried to the site. Electricity and running water may only
be available via the use of a portable generator and by backpacking
in containers of water. Issues of health and safety, and the
environmental suitability of treatments raise a large number of
problems as sites do not come furnished with laboratory standard
safety equipment, controllable ventilation, hazardous waste
disposal systems, or a convenient hospital (Fig. 6).

Fig. 6 A field laboratory set up at Pictograph Cave
State Historic Park, Montana, during conservation field work in
1996. This lab was the facility that supported our work; assessing
various methods for the possible consolidation of a collapsing cave
wall below a panel of pictographs; and the removal of mineral
deposits forming over the paintings due to changes in the local
hydrology.

You have to be prepared to work outdoors in all extremes of
weather, at all times of the year, and in physically challenging
locations (Fig. 7); to really understand the way water drains from a
site you should be there watching it at the height of a storm and to
figure out the impact of ice in a flooded cave you must visit it
when it is frozen.

Fig.
7 Working in the confined spaces of the caves at Hueco Tanks
State Historic Park, Texas. Besides cramped working locations, Hueco
Tanks also provides challenging weather; in the summer it can be so
hot that work can only take place in the early hours of the day or
in the evenings. The sites are also very slippery as the rock
floors, most of them sloping, have become polished to an ice-like
finish by thousands of years of use and visitation.

Rock art sites are alive both literally and spiritually. They
consist of not just the visible images themselves; the very
landscape they are situated in is an integral part of the site--or
"object". Indeed, ethnographic records and contemporary Native
American accounts tell us that the images (which we tend to focus on
literally and metaphorically) are not necessarily the most important
feature of the place. The most significant part of the site may be
an aspect of the site's environment or indeed something not visible
or tangible, but it is there, and it is connected to the images, and
therefore we must take it into consideration when working with the
visible parts of a site. This goes to underline the importance and
necessity of consulting and involving native peoples whenever
working with rock art.

Classifying which speciality within conservation best meets the
demands of conserving rock art is difficult. Aspects of stone,
architecture, site, wall painting, and of course archaeological
conservation are all relevant. In addition, due to the fact that the
sites exist as integral parts of the natural world, rock art
conservation involves working with many other specialists including
geologists, hydrologists, biologists, structural engineers,
botanists and archaeologists, to name a few. This can be both
frustrating and greatly rewarding all at the same time.

Funding for the protection and on-going care of sites is always a
constraint. Agencies such as the National Park Service, Forest
Service, and Bureau of Land Management (the federal agencies that
protect the majority of rock art sites located on public lands in
this country) are facing shrinking budgets and cuts in human
resources. Trying to manage several hundreds--possibly thousands--of
sites, many separated from each other by miles of roadless terrain
is a challenge. And this is especially so when a limited staff has
multiple responsibilities--ranger, law enforcement officer,
interpreter, cultural resource manager, natural resource manager and
administrator. As a conservator coming into this, you have to be
prepared to recognize the limits and realities of the situation. You
have to be able to compromise and have the ingenuity to find
workable solutions to problems that ordinarily would be
straightforward in the "normal" world of a museum.

Along with the skills just mentioned and the attributes of
patience, precision and attention to detail that all good
conservators must cultivate, working with rock art sites also
demands that you can cope with being away from home for extended
periods of time and enjoy traveling.

On average I drive 25,000 to 30,000 miles a year--I fly the rest
of the time. I have two homes; my house in Portland, Oregon, and my
truck. It is a close call as to which I spend more time in each
year. Last year it was the truck that was decorated for Thanksgiving
and Christmas, and this year I didn't bother planting my vegetable
garden, much to the disappointment of my friends and neighbors who
normally enjoy its produce on my behalf. Meanwhile, I am trying to
figure out why I haven't been given honorary shares in Motel
6� yet.

Common conservation tasks at rock image sites include trying to
remove or repair vandalism, studying and mitigating the impact of
natural weathering action, working with land managers to improve the
way in which people visit sites, for example by helping to plan the
re-routing of trails, helping to draw up etiquette guides for
visitors, or helping to provide interpretation of sites. It is not
unusual for me to be driving around with a generator, air
compressor, work lights, ladders, camping equipment, various
conservation supplies and smaller tools, along with less robust
equipment such as relative humidity and temperature data loggers,
several cameras, and my laptop computer and modem--two pieces of
equipment I cannot imagine trying to do my job without.

Rock art conservation--especially in North America--is
relatively undeveloped. We need to put some effort into helping land
managers and archaeologists understand the principles of good
conservation and provide them with options for the treatment of
sites. In a desperate attempt to do something about vandalism at a
site, it is still common practice for land managers to use
proprietary graffiti removal products designed for cleaning bus
stops, park benches and the like. Industrial sandblasters, wire
brushes used in combination with all manner of solvents, acids, and
paint strippers have been employed, and Easy-Off� oven
cleaner has a long and favored history of service, especially in the
Southwest.

As conservators we must try to improve this situation, while at
the same time recognizing the practical and financial resource
limitations under which these people work. For example, after four
years of working with the staff at Petroglyph National Monument,
Albuquerque, New Mexico, helping them come up with solutions to the
graffiti problems at the Monument, I carried out a training session
for selected members of the staff , instructing them in the use of a
series of techniques (including the correct operation of a low
pressure airbrasive system) that they could utilize to clean-up
graffiti not directly associated with petroglyphs.

Prior to learning how to apply the treatments, the participants
were instructed in the principles of conservation, standards of
professional practice, and given instruction on the importance of
understanding the material science of both the "artifact" and the
graffiti (in this case the artifact is the petroglyphs and the
basalt substrate into which they are carved--knowledge most of them
possessed, but had not necessarily considered when trying to deal
with graffiti). As a result of this training I am confident that the
Monument staff, should they leave the Monument for posts elsewhere
and be faced with a graffiti problem at their new location, will not
be tempted to simply use the specific treatments provided for
Petroglyph National Monument without consideration for the unique
characteristics of the new location. All training was carried out
with the understanding that these particular treatments are specific
to the Monument and should not be adopted elsewhere without first
consulting a conservator.

An additional understanding was that no treatment of graffiti
directly in contact with petroglyphs would be undertaken by the
staff under any circumstance. These areas are to only be treated by
an experienced conservator. It was also understood that if this
agreement was breached by the staff, I reserved the right to
publicly disassociate myself with their actions. So far this
arrangement has worked well, and graffiti is being taken care of in
a timely and informed manner.

In October a small part of the WAAC annual meetings in Phoenix
will focus on the issues of rock art conservation. To my knowledge,
this is the first time a meeting held by a conservation organization
in the United States has shown such interest in this topic. For many
years the issues of conservation and preservation have been
addressed only by the American Rock Art Research Association (ARARA)
and the Society for American Archaeology (SAA) both of whom have,
for many years, held symposia dedicated to rock art studies.

ARARA was founded in 1974 on the principles of promoting
education, research and conservation within rock art studies and by
1981 it had established an energetic Conservation and Preservation
Committee, a group of members prepared to volunteer time to advocate
and support efforts to protect sites. In its early years, committee
and general ARARA members were actively treating rock art in the
field--especially graffiti removal--in a desperate attempt to
preserve a resource that they could see being rapidly destroyed.
These practices no longer take place under the sanction of ARARA,
instead the committee has returned to its avocational approach to
conservation issues, although they remain frustrated by the amount
and rate of damage and destruction that occurs. To date I am the
only professional conservator who has served as a committee member,
and I continue to do so.

ARARA held its first meeting dedicated to conservation issues in
1987 (Crotty, 1989), and in 1988 they
published "Conservation Guidelines of the American Rock Art
Research Association" (ARARA, 1988). The
interest in conservation issues amongst the membership of ARARA is
such that I have been able to organize sessions dedicated to this
topic at the last four annual meetings.

The SAA annual meetings represent one of the largest gatherings
of archaeologists and anthropologists in the country. Rock art
papers have been a regular feature of these meetings for at least 15
years. In 1987 two sessions were dedicated to rock art studies,
since 1993 there have been annual sessions devoted to the subject,
and at the 1995 meetings a special interest group was formed within
SAA dedicated to promoting the study and general awareness of rock
art related issues including conservation. None of the SAA sessions
have been dedicated to conservation, but have included papers
addressing the topic.

Although it is encouraging to finally see a conservation
association interested enough to highlight this subject as the WAAC
meeting will do, it is sad that other organizations whose primary
focus is not conservation have led the way in promoting the need for
the appropriate treatment of this resource.

There is, not surprisingly, a need for both research into
specific conservation problems posed by rock art and for the
adaptation of existing treatments from other fields of conservation.
Petroglyph National Monument has been a leader in efforts to
research and support innovations in rock art conservation. I am
currently working there with John Griswold, of Wharton & Griswold
Associates, Santa Barbara, California, researching and field testing
methods and materials for the reintegration of scratched graffiti.
We hope this work will enable us to find a treatment that will not
only be visually acceptable, financially feasible, and have low
maintenance demands, but one that can endure the very exposed
location of the Monument and the extremes of the local
environment.

With approximately 17,000 known glyphs located on a 17 mile long
escarpment, much of which shows varying concentrations of scratched
graffiti and gunshot damage, the importance of finding a practical
solution to this problem is obvious. Of course the results of this
work will also be of use to many other sites facing these sadly
common problems.

Training is also an issue. Currently there are people conserving
rock art sites who have little or no training in what we consider to
be professional conservation methods, materials, and ethics. This
puts the sites at risk and does little to further our efforts as a
profession to promote sound conservation practice.

Ultimately we should ask why conserve these images and sites, and
for whom? Protection and preservation of these sites provide all of
us with a resource from which we can learn about the history of this
land, and about the communities that have lived here before us. Rock
art represents a visual reminder of past activities and a connection
to past and present spiritual beliefs. These efforts help some
Native American communities reconnect or maintain their cultural
connections, help reinforce traditional beliefs, and provide their
children with a stronger sense of cultural identity. This is not
conserving art for art's sake.

How can we help as visitors to rock art sites? We all need to
learn to look with our eyes, not our hands. Vandalism to sites
should be reported promptly to the relevant land management agency.
Educating ourselves and others about the significance of petroglyphs
and pictographs will help us all understand and respect this
remarkable and often fragile example of cultural heritage. However,
we also have to accept that we will never know the true meaning of
these places, and that the traditional owners of the sites have the
right to retain that knowledge and not share it if they so
choose.

It is now the common policy of land managing agencies not to give
out the locations of rock art sites (other than those on developed
and patrolled trails), in order to protect them from concentrated
visitation and vandalism. The visitor can no longer expect to be
told where the "best sites" are, and we must accept this until such
time as resources are available for the agencies to control access
appropriately. We hope that general education and learning to
respect the sites as sacred landscapes, as well as places of history
and examples of human expression, will lead to behavior that will
naturally prolong the intended life of these extraordinary
places.

REFERENCES

ARARA, 1988. Conservation Guidelines of the
American Rock Art Research Association. ARARA, c/o Arizona State
Museum, University of Arizona, Tucson, Arizona.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This article is an expanded version of a short piece due to
appear in the December 1997 issue of "Archaeology and Public
Education" (Vol. 7, No. 3, 1997)--the newsletter of the Society for
American Archaeology (SAA) Public Education Committee. I would like
to thank the Public Education Committee of SAA for permission to
publish this developed version of the piece already written for
them. Thanks are also due to various members of ARARA and the SAA
for confirming the details of the history of the organizations, and
to Dave Hatch for encouragement and some wicked but needed editing,
most of which I accepted.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Based out of Portland, Oregon, J. Claire Dean is an
archaeological conservator in private practice who specializes in
the conservation of rock art. Besides being a member of WAAC she is
a member of the Society for American Archaeology's rock art special
interest group, and she serves on two committees of the American
Rock Art Research Association (ARARA); as a member of the
Conservation and Preservation Committee, and as the Oregon State
Representative to their Education Committee. She is also on the
Board of Directors of ARARA.